Unknown Ink

When you're born a name appears on your left wrist in black ink. If you're a girl the script is in cursive, if you're a boy then it's in bold, blocky letters. The name that appears on your wrist is the name of your soulmate. Next to the name is a small image that represents who your soulmate is as a person. What happens when your soulmate is an international superstar from another country?


2. Music Shop

It’s been three days since the famous Australian pop-punk band, 5 Seconds of Summer has finished their Sounds Live Feels Live tour around the world. Where are the boys now? Well the word is that Luke Hemmings, the lead man of the group, is still in Aussie. The powerhouse drummer, Ashton Irwin is with his family in Sydney, biding his time by posting pictures on Instagram and testing guitars out. The mysterious lead guitarist, Michael Clifford is nowhere to be found, and allegedly hasn’t been seen since the boys departed from the tour. Last but definitely not least, the buff bassist, Calum Hood is somewhere here in L.A., hiding from cameras and relaxing in his spare time. Why is he still in L.A.? When will he go back to Oz? Is there a girl involved? Tune in next time on-”

I turn off the podcast on my phone. I was so sick of hearing bullshit rumours about celebrities and their romance scandals. Just because someone is seen with someone of the opposite gender doesn’t mean that they’re instantly married with four kids and a small farm outside of a small village in Africa. 

The car behind me beeps his horn at me. I whip around on my bike and flip them the finger, revving the engine on my motorcycle and taking off down the street. 

I keep driving until I finally come up to my turn off. I slow down until I park next to a black Range Rover. Hm, that’s odd. I think to myself. This part of town rarely sees fancy vehicles like that. I stop thinking about it and pull my helmet off, shaking out my long brown hair. It settles around my hips and I comb my fingers through it, making sure that there weren’t any strange loops or snarls. I lock my matte black helmet to the handlebars of my Ninja and pull the keys out of the ignition. I throw my leg over the side and smooth out my Rob Zombie shirt, adjusting my black leather jacket over my shoulders. I tuck my skinny jeans back into my motorcycle boots and smooth the straps of my shoulder bag. After determining that my appearance was decent, I stepped up onto the cracked concrete of the sidewalk. 

The little shop that I frequent was in near disrepair. The windows were yellowed, although still translucent. The brick foundation was cracked and chipped. The once-bright-red paint on the siding was now a faded orange and peeling off in pieces.  

I avert my attention from the decaying display in front of me and make my way through the open door. I immediately pan around the room. There were only three people that I could see, the clerk, who was studying a book on the counter, an old man with a long shaggy beard flipping through the records, and a boy with dark hair in the back who was surveying the acoustic instrument section. 

I flick my bangs out of my eyes and make my way towards the string section, which was near the instruments. As I came to stand in front of the array of guitar accessories, I noticed the boy shift towards me slightly. In return I nonchalantly stepped away. I was never one to easily trust strangers, meaning that the less interaction I had with them, the better. I squat down to look at the D’dario acoustic string section for my six-string and an picked out a bronze set that were color coded. I stood once again and decided to look into getting a spare set for my electric just in case one breaks. I lean towards the Ernie Ball collection, meaning that I had to get closer to the weird boy. I take a few steps towards him and I notice that he has a thick grey leather bracelet over his left wrist, matching my own exactly. 

The bracelets are given to us at birth, and every year we get a new one on our birthdays so we may keep the identity of our “soul mates” to ourselves if we’d like. I really don’t buy into the whole “soul mate” thing personally. The idea that someone was created to fit you perfectly is just unrealistic and has no common sense involved in it. 

I scan the display in front of me, looking for the purple package that says “Power Slinky” in psychedelic letters. I finally find the pack, and just as I’m turning to leave a voice stops me. 

“Excuse me?” 

I slowly turn around on my left heel and and face the boy, whom I’m assuming spoke to me. As I plaster a fake smile on my face, I lace my voice with false saccharine.

“Can I help you?”

The boy nods. “I think so. I noticed that you had a pack of acoustic strings, and I wanted to know where you found them? I need some for my acoustic bass and I couldn’t find any.” he had an odd accent, perhaps Kiwi? Australian?

“Yeah that’s because you’re in the wrong section. This is the guitar part of the store; bass is over there” I point down the isle to where the other strings were. 

“Oh, well could you show me?” the boy persisted.

“Well, I guess.” I wander off away from the boy, not looking back to see if he was following. 

“They’re right here, next to the pickguards. I recommend this brand, they’re always the best.” I hand him the pack of strings, and our fingers touch for a split second. My wrist burns like a fire I’ve never experienced before. “Ouch, shit!” I drop the strings, and the boy does the same. 

“What the hell?” the boy pulls off the leather on his left wrist as I do. I look at the ink that was marked into my skin and what I saw both shocked and terrified me.

The ink that had always been black was now a glittering gold. The name ‘Calum’ and the small bass clef next to it were shimmering in the fluorescent lights. I looked up to see the boy staring at my wrist, his dark brown eyes blown wide. I glance at his wrist and I see my name written in golden ink, next to a small treble clef. 

“Lark?” the boy quietly says.


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